


Rare and New and Not At All

by SlytherinSansa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic, Fluff, Getting Together, It’s Kuroken, Kenma Is Very Much In Love With Kuroo Agenda, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, More Sappy Than I Intended Towards The End I Guess, Pining, So I Couldn’t Help It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSansa/pseuds/SlytherinSansa
Summary: Kenma is wary of changes in his life. He doesn’t fear them so much as he finds the process of establishing new routines a little hard to adjust to. But when his best friend breaks a confession that he is sure would steer their relationship into a strange and scary direction, he may or may not be surprised when the change doesn’t come. Or rather, it doesn’t need to.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020





	Rare and New and Not At All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [froochies (darling_dontworry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_dontworry/gifts).



> This was written for my giftee who had to wait a few days for her gift because life had to get in the way of my posting. Thank you for your patience—and for liking it!
> 
> To anyone else who comes across this fic, I hope you enjoy it!

There were no incessant ringing and hard vibrations beneath the pillow to wake Kenma up, but he was roused from sleep all the same. He groaned. Biological clocks were helpful for when he was too exhausted to remember setting an alarm, but right now he wished he could have turned them off with an easy tap of a finger. Nothing more was tempting on a storm day than to stay curled under the warmth of the comforters that smelled so much of Kuroo.

With a yawn he climbed out of bed. He was still half-asleep, but full consciousness slowly returned to him as the discomfort of a full bladder and a fresh ache in his arm registered. There was hollowness in his stomach, too. Before he knew it, he was dragging himself out of his room and into the bathroom. When his ears picked up movements in the kitchen on his way, he left the door ajar.

Sure enough, Kuroo’s voice filtered in seconds later. Kenma couldn’t make out the words over the many sounds of rushing water. The flush of the toilet, the tap water hitting his hands, the relentless descent of heavy rain beyond the walls of their apartment. It didn’t matter, though. He was already right outside by the sound of his halting footsteps.

“Kenmaaa.” Kuroo opened the door wider with a push of his palm. Poking his head through the doorway, he looked at his best friend in the mirror. “Do you want a sandwich?”

It was a question that warranted a morning snark from Kenma, but currently he was out of it. Either it was due to the toothbrush in his mouth, or last night’s episode. He only shook his head.

With a sigh, Kuroo leaned against the doorframe and watched Kenma brush his teeth. “You should really try my sandwich, Kenma-kun.”

“I eat your sandwich,” he replied once he had spat into the sink.

“Not for breakfast, no.”

When he turned to head for the kitchen, Kuroo took a backward step to let Kenma pass. He shot Kuroo a scowled look. “What’s with you?”

“I might have made a lot for just me, so...” Kenma pictured Kuroo scratching the back of his bedhead behind him. “And I know you like them.”

He indeed liked the sandwiches Kuroo made; he liked whatever Kuroo made him. Because long ago, the latter had learned that there was no forcing Kenma to consume foods his taste buds had a hard time getting acquainted with, no matter how healthy they were supposed to be. So for the sake of them both, and the money and ingredients they’d rather not waste, Kuroo would only cook “Kenma-friendly” meals for his roommate. 

Over time, he had only improved his skills. And before long, Kenma started looking forward to eating Kuroo’s homemade.

Breakfast excluded.

“Leave some for me, then. I’ll eat later.”

It might not seem like it, but it’s a weird conversation to have with Kuroo. More than anyone, it was he who was most familiar with Kenma’s very short breakfast menu, and his refusal to expand it. Just like how he was most familiar with Kenma’s preference to stick to old and established patterns, regardless of their significance.

He wasn’t exactly being insistent about it, but Kenma had begun to suspect he’s up to something still... until his eyes spotted a bowl of corn flakes on the coffee table in the living room. Beside it was a carton of milk.

Wordlessly Kuroo shuffled past him to plop himself down in his corner of the sofa. Walking around to take his own spot on the opposite end, Kenma reached over for the bowl as Kuroo poured milk in his breakfast.

It was typical of him to engage in a light-hearted argument to see if Kenma would budge. But ultimately, he’s aware which subject was negotiable and which was not.

Turning the TV on, Kuroo settled on a news program after flicking through the channels.

“So most likely classes are still off tomorrow.” He informed him, his legs now stretched out in front of him on the extended couch of their L-shaped sofa.

“Stations are flooded?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo confirmed.

Kenma could only hum as he put spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth. The stations weren’t the only place flooded, it seemed. He watched a reporter wade through knee-high water in the neighborhood streets of Arakawa.

To his right, Kuroo munched on banana chips.

Kenma stole a glance.

The brunt of the storm had come and gone, but the dark clouds hadn’t lifted. They dulled the colors of the morning and matched the shadows under Kuroo’s eyes.

They had taken up residence there since he entered university, so they’re nothing new. But this morning they were even more noticeable, the bags seemingly heavier.

“Did you sleep okay?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo faced him, the corners of his mouth tilting up—one slightly higher than the other—into a smile that was rare and pretty and what he had overheard his old Nekoma teammates call as the ‘Kenma smile.’ Kenma didn’t smile like that, but, whatever that meant.

“Yeah, more than okay.” His eyes were smiling, too. “All thanks to you.”

Kenma had to take a breath.

And to blink, at Kuroo’s gentle and equally rare thanks. 

“Don’t mention it,” was all he could say.

“Eh. Just take it while I’m feeling grateful.”

Gratitude wasn’t in question; there was never lack of it between the two. But when things they had been doing for each other started to become a regularity, they stopped being favors. 

Kenma only shrugged and mumbled, “Whatever.”

Once he had finished eating, he downed the leftover milk and placed the bowl back on the coffee table. He wasn’t full, but he’s not hungry anymore. Grabbing his PS Vita off the side table, he switched it on. Absent-mindedly, his free hand felt around for a pillow. It found one and tossed it onto Kuroo’s lap, who chuckled.

They both moved then—Kuroo raising up an arm to lay it over the backrest while the other hand readjusted the pillow on his lap; Kenma falling on his back, head hitting the soft cushion. All in one smooth motion. In sync, as always.

On screen, his saved file for Chains of Olympus loaded. He liked replaying old releases in his downtime, and right now was one.

If spontaneity came easy to him, he’d be beating his unfinished games the entire day, or be pulling a random stream with no care for today’s schedule. But it didn’t, so he’d play for a bit and keep to his class timetable as best as he could. Even at home, even at this weather. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Above him, Kuroo’s jaw moved as he returned the earlier question. 

“Mm-mm.” Lifting his left arm up a little, Kenma added: “My arm’s a bit sore, though.”

Fingers wrapped around sweatered forearm, Kuroo squeezed lightly. Kenma hissed and glared up at him, shaking his hand off. With a small laugh, his best friend let go.

“Want me to massage it? It’s my fault, anyway,” Kuroo offered.

Kenma didn’t need to give that a thought. “Okay, but I’ll play first.”

“Of course.”

He’d gladly get both arms sore if it meant a nightmare-free sleep for Kuroo. It hadn’t been the first time it happened, after all. Every once in a while Kenma would be climbing down their bunk bed when he sensed the tossing and turning of the occupant below.

He’d take the edge side even if he liked the wall better, and hold the bigger man until he felt the arms around his waist relax. Keep holding him even after Kuroo had drifted off and let go and shifted to lie on his back. It always awoke him when Kenma would disentangle, so he didn’t.

Last night hadn’t been different. There Kenma was underneath the covers with Kuroo, exchanging warmth as fierce winds banged at the windows and walls of their apartment building. Kenma had waited until he heard him snore against his chest, and then closed his own eyes with his digits threaded through black hair and arms cradling a head.

An arm came to rest on his torso now, longer and more toned and not his. Dangling above him, pinched between the thumb and fingers, was a slice of dried banana. “Want some?”

Kenma stared at it contemplatively. Kuroo sagged his shoulders in a sigh.

“C’mooon. It’s just banana chips.”

Parting his mouth open, Kenma let out an “Aahh.”

There was an appeased grin, then sweetened chips caught between teeth, and fingertips grazing his lips.

Kuroo fed him some more while Kenma focused on the mission in front of him.

When sweaters and track pants could no longer hold off the cold that the typhoon brought, Kenma went back to their shared room and plucked two blankets out of the closet. He handed one to Kuroo who appreciatively accepted it. He then patted the pillow on his lap, motioning for Kenma to assume his previous position. Kenma did.

Once they’re resettled, silence fell. One that was accompanied by the muted noise of television and handheld game, and the deep sound of rain. But silence nonetheless. The kind they both liked and felt comfortable in.

It didn’t take long before lean fingers started carding through part blond hair, occasionally pressing in to massage the scalp. It felt so good and relaxing and Kenma’s stifling a yawn but Kuroo didn’t miss it.

“Oyaa~ Does it feel good?”

Kuroo’s thumbs traced Kenma’s hairline with just enough pressure to induce a tingling sensation all over his head. Then down to his temples, where pointer and middle fingers joined to rub circles. Kenma surrendered to the feeling and paused his game, closing his droopy eyelids.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on my lap now. I’m not carrying you to bed.”

Kenma wasn’t planning to, but he decided to humor him.

“Then don’t. I can just sleep here.”

“And what? Force me to not move for hours like the lazy cat that you are? I don’t think so, kitten.”

“You don’t mind it.” Kenma reminded him, because it’s true.

There was an uncharacteristic pause from Kuroo—who always liked having the final say—so Kenma trained his gaze upwards and met a pair of hazel eyes. Something he couldn’t quite place glinted in them.

“Well,” Kuroo started slowly. “when you love a person, you kinda don’t mind a lot of things.”

He had never known Kuroo’s voice to be capable of such tenderness.

Carefully, Kenma lifted himself up without breaking their gaze.

“...what?”

“I love you, Kenma.”

When Kenma only regarded him with a look that asked a thousand questions, his face pulled into a slight grimace.

“Oi, don’t look so shocked now.” Kuroo broke eye contact as he got up and off the couch. “It’s not like I don’t show it. Also, you don’t have to say anything, you know. Just...” He rubbed the back of his neck, and Kenma noticed the red in his ears that wasn’t there earlier.

He wanted to say something, anything. But words failed him, and he failed Kuroo who stood there with none of the confidence he usually carried. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll be in the study if you need anything.”

Kuroo backed away tentatively, turned, and retreated into his former room.

Kenma watched his back and then the door. He’s frozen on the couch, but not cold. No words, but a thousand thoughts. The other corner of the sofa was empty, so Kenma scooted to fill it.

•••  
  


The muscled arm slung over Kenma’s shoulder was not new, but it wasn’t as familiar, either. It lacked the usual weight that would occasionally hit him with the light urge to shove off the heavy limb that intentionally pressed and squeezed to annoy him and warm him and bring him closer to Kuroo’s side.

Similarly, Kuroo’s hand didn’t once come up to tuck strands of hair behind his ear. Or mindlessly run a finger along his jawline like he habitually did. But he was there, occupying the same space by Kenma’s side, who was leaning against the wall by the corner as they waited for their laundry to finish drying. It was a setup they’d always find themselves in _—_ the taller student with his attention on his phone, reading PDF files of his notes; and the shorter one on his PS Vita, playing his game while he huddled under a strong arm.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but in reality, a lot of things were. Kuroo holding back his weight was one.

It had always irritated Kenma whenever he draped himself over his smaller frame, which he did often because he could and because Kenma was used to it and wouldn’t really do anything about it anymore but click his tongue and glower for a second or two, and just continue to let it happen.

He would especially let it happen now, in exchange for the awkward tension that had come to exist between them for the past few days.

Much as he tried to pretend that everything was normal, Kuroo was still not an expert at putting on a facade and maintaining them in front of Kenma. It could work with other people, but he’d be a fool to think that Kenma missed the tell-tale signs when his efforts were crumbling.

The frequent cracked voices, averted gazes, and avoided physical contact they otherwise shared regularly were new layers added to old habits and interactions. For Kenma who found security in the constant, this hadn’t been easy to navigate through.

“We gotta buy a new washer-dryer. The trip to the laundromat is always a hassle.”

In the two months that they’d had to do the trip, not once did he complain about it. Kuroo was not one to be troubled by mild inconveniences.

Another tell-tale sign. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Kenma pointed out, crossing his legs to mirror Kuroo’s position.

“Uhh, folding clothes?” He looked at the pile of clean laundry before them. They had made it back to their apartment and pushed the coffee table to the side to free some space on the floor.

“You know I can tell when something is bothering you, Kuro. Even before you tell me.” Ever since they were little, Kenma had already had a good grasp of what went on in his best friend’s mind. Kuroo wouldn’t let him in all the time, probably because he believed it burdened him; it didn’t. But because Kenma sensed that Kuroo appreciated it a lot when he figured things out without the need for talks, he’d learned to understand his language. He knew it reassured Kuroo when he showed him he’s paying attention. “Normally I’d do something about it,” Kenma added after a beat. “I’d have done something about it now, but this one involves me and I… I don’t know how to go about this, too.”

“I’m sorry.” Kuroo sounded and looked so apologetic when he dropped his gaze to his lap and fiddled with his volleyball jersey from last year. His first one in university.

“Do you regret it?”

He directed his gaze back at Kenma. “Regret what?” The question wasn’t of feigned ignorance. He simply appeared to think that there was more than one thing to regret.

“When you said it.”

“What? Confessing to you? Hell no. Never.” Kuroo answered with such conviction that there was never any doubt to it.

“I don’t regret it,” he continued. “but I do wish it was under better circumstances.”

There was no guarantee that a better circumstance could make a difference. Not that it was a terrible one to begin with. Only that whatever the timing was, Kenma was sure he’d still have the same speechless reaction.

“It doesn’t matter now, though,” Kenma replied.

“You’re right. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Kenma wanted to tease him that he had a tendency to make things uncomfortable for him. Sometimes to drive him to push himself to a limit which didn’t previously exist. Other times, just trivial shenanigans to take the piss out of Kenma. None of them he really minded, though. And none sought to deliberately trouble his sense of safety and security, his peace of mind. Kuroo would be the last person to do that. “Kuro, you don’t have to worry about me,” he said instead.

“That’s impossible, Kenma.”

“Then, worry about yourself more.” Kenma’s tone was one of genuine concern. Kuroo had a penchant for putting others before himself. Kenma had hoped to change that because sometimes it took a toll on him. But it’s in his core, it’s what made him admirable and kind and good, almost to a fault. So Kenma could only try to put Kuroo before himself at times like this. 

Affection reflected in Kuroo’s eyes. Kenma’s sincerity didn’t seem lost on him, and he was glad for that. “Fair enough.”

Kenma smiled at Kuroo and caught his deep inhale. 

“Did it scare you off? When I confessed?”

Not expecting the question, Kenma blinked. “Not really. I was just taken aback.” He thought back on Kuroo’s words. “I accepted it easily, though. So I guess you’re right. It shouldn’t come as a surprise.” Kuroo loved him. Of course, he did.

But he had also repeated to Kenma that day with pink on his cheeks and a slight tremble in his voice that he didn’t have to reply. That it wasn’t a question that needed answering. So he heeded it. Feelings were one thing, the whole shakeup of dynamic following a confession was another. Between them and their decade-long friendship, it could prove more true in ways he feared. Putting that friendship on the line wasn’t an option.

“That’s a relief, then.” Kuroo let go of a breath he seemed to have been holding. After a while: “If I say the words again, would it be okay?”

Kenma’s heartbeat picked up pace. “Yes.”

“All right.” It’s the Kenma smile again.

“All right.” Kenma offered a smile of his own and reached for the clothes nearest his hand. Kuroo did the same once he had folded his jersey. 

When he didn’t say the words right there and then, Kenma couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

•••  
  


It was almost 11 in the evening when Kenma stepped into the entryway of their apartment, exhausted beyond belief. His Thursdays were always like this: lectures until 7, gaming tournaments until 10. What his Thursdays were not: an apartment that was dark and still and silent. Normally there would have been a faint glimmer of light somewhere in the apartment. Or the TV in low volume with Kuroo waiting for him on the couch, just as exhausted as he was from volleyball training, a welcoming albeit tired smile on his face. His hand searched for the switch on the wall, and the pin lights in the hallway leading to the bathroom blinked on. Slipping out of his sneakers, he craned around the corner to check if the lights in the study were on. They weren’t, so Kuroo could only be asleep. With socked feet, he padded towards the bathroom to brush and wash up.

It was when he made for the bedroom that he noticed Kuroo’s large sleeping form sprawled on the sofa. Quietly, he creeped towards the sidetable and flicked the lamp on. There were books and notepads and file folders scattered on the floor and coffee table. Kenma crouched down and gathered the ones on the floor and put them on the table. He left the books open on the page they were turned to, in case Kuroo dozed off while reading.

Kenma shook his head affectionately, allowing himself a small smile. Before he could nudge Kuroo awake, though, he retracted his hand. His blanket was out in the living room with him where he had studied and he had studied until he passed out. Kenma frowned.

When Kuroo had moved into Kenma’s room two months into the latter’s first term in university, he set a rule between themselves. _No studying where you rest and no sleeping where you study._ His old room was partly turned into their study, and partly into Kenma’s gaming room. The rule worked well because they were able to check themselves that way, especially Kenma who spent many hours a week streaming.

Breaking that self-imposed rule, and beating the purpose of a separate bedroom and study place could only imply one thing. Kenma would have pushed his suspicions away if not for the blanket Kuroo had brought out from his bed and into the living room where he was settled for the night.

Beside him, the sleeping form shifted and snored. A crease had formed between his eyebrows. Kenma pulled the covers up to his neck and wondered what his best friend was dreaming about. If he was also thinking of what the past few days could mean for their friendship. Leaning forwards, he planted a gentle kiss on his forehead like many times before, and on his cheek like never before. Kenma watched his face smoothen as he leaned back. In his sleep, under the warm glow of the lamp, Kuroo was more handsome than usual, his lips seeming softer than they had the right to be. He rose to his feet before he got the idea to feel it, to touch it with his own lips. Though still tempted to rouse him and ask him to move back into the bed, Kenma stopped himself. He killed the lights beside him and only left the ones in the hallway. Kuroo liked it dark, but he’s not in their room and he’d be stumbling all over in search of light switches if he woke in the middle of the night.

As Kenma climbed to bed, his mind wandered to Kuroo’s gentle features in his unguarded state. The way his own lips found his cheek so naturally. The fact that it was the first time either of them kissed the other somewhere that wasn’t the forehead or the hair, that it might be a little impulsive and not like Kenma at all to do that. And the realization that perhaps, it wasn’t that surprising after all. That perhaps, because it was Kuroo, he was meant to be doing that all along. It certainly felt like it because he thought he could do that while he’s awake and aware. And maybe ask a kiss or two too in return.

He clutched the covers tight and tried to ignore the unoccupied bed below him and his suspicions on why that was so. Instead, Kenma let the warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach sweep him to sleep.

•••  
  


Kenma’s suspicion the night before was confirmed in the form of yet another empty apartment and a lone sticky note on the fridge: _went to bo’s. see you, kitten~_

Friday lectures didn’t start until before noon for Kuroo, and the only one instance before where he had written him notes instead of sending a text message was when he had gotten so upset with Kenma he avoided speaking with him for days, even going so far as to take his option to reply directly to him away.

Originally he thought Kuroo had been overreacting. It wasn’t the end of the world if he had failed to notify him of his whereabouts for an entire night. It’s also not as though he did it on purpose—his phone had died, the tournament stretched past midnight, and then a group project had busied him until the next morning.

Guilt had pricked him when he came home to Kuroo hunched on the kitchen counter with bloodshot eyes and a raised voice. But Kenma was so spent, and as a result more stubborn than both of them were used to. He’s 18, he’d said, and he could take care of himself. Days later, Kuroo had teary eyes when he had revealed: _You weren’t there to hold me that night, Kenma. I was worried sick, and the nightmares didn’t exactly help._

His reasons were different now, and if this was his way of heeding Kenma’s advice to look after himself first, then he would let him. Even if it disheartened him. Even if this made him miss Kuroo in a way he hadn’t before.

Even if this made him miss him even morethat night when he saw the food on the table and another note on the fridge— _don’t forget to eat!—_ but still no Kuroo. And though his cooking tasted the same way they always had on any given day, Kenma enjoyed them less. He finished them, anyway.

After he had cleaned up, he tucked himself in bed. Not the top bunk which was his, but the lower bunk that had been vacant for two days now. The linens were freshly changed, but he could still imagine the scent of Kuroo’s body soap and shampoo and cologne and detergent and how they clung to whatever it was his body touched. Kenma had smelled of Kuroo, too, especially on days where he was being particularly clingy.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his legs against the soft sheets. When he rolled onto his side his eyes spotted another small piece of the yellow note. He lifted it off the bedside table and brought it to his face.

_night, Kenma, i love you._

Kenma fixed his gaze on the words, the characters, on Kuroo’s penmanship. He recalled the way it had sounded coming out of his mouth, the tone he’d used when he said it. He had never wished to hear something said so badly in person again. Never wanted to say the words back so desperately. But as tempting as it was to just type the words out and send him a message, Kenma had to refrain. It wouldn’t be fair to Kuroo, and it could never justify the wave of emotions that were dawning on him right at this moment.

Once again he read the note.

_night, Kenma, i love you._

He felt the same for him, and he felt it in an overwhelming way.  
  


•••

Kenma ticked off the first box on his checklist as he walked out of the pharmacy. He proceeded to the grocery right beside it as he looked through the rest of his list. Not a lot on it, but he’d ran out of cereal drinks and the small glass jar of Kuroo’s multivitamin tablets was empty so he’d decided to do some quick shopping.

“Kenma!” The voice sent his heart into a gallop. He whirled and watched Kuroo approach him with a carefree smile which only served to accentuate the handsome features on his face. “Kenmaaaa. You’re here.”

“I am. Why are you?” He hoped that wasn’t his voice that rose into a higher pitch.

“What do you mean? It’s Saturday. Grocery day. Of course I’m here.” Kuroo answered him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Which it probably was, but in the days that Kuroo was not around or available Kenma seemed to have lost track of time. How could he not when he’s part of his routine, his daily life. With him away there was a huge space that was apparent and cold and empty. With Kuroo away the change he had been fearing since he confessed was realized in that very absence in the most ironic of ways.

“Is it? No wonder you’re out of those tablets.” _No wonder my body guided me here despite not knowing the day._ Composing himself, Kenma pushed the brown paper bag containing Kuroo’s vitamins into his hand. 

Kuroo grinned and clasped it with one hand while his other lifted up to show Kenma the baskets he’s holding.

“Why do you insist on making us both carry baskets when we could just push a cart.”

“It’s good arm workout.”

Kenma huffed, taking one of the baskets from him. “Not for me. I don’t care to work out.” His hand brushed Kuroo’s.

“Well, you should start doing so, Kenma-kun. Your gamer arms need those stamina.”

Kenma side-eyed him, but internally he was smiling so happily. It was good that they’re back to this. The banter. The back and forth. The easy conversations. It felt so natural, so familiar, as opposed to the past week of strangeness between them.

They moved then, their feet carrying them across aisles as though they were on auto-pilot. Hands grabbing their go-to products off the shelves, not staying in one place for too long. They only ever took their time in the meat section and fresh produce, but Kenma was thinking he could use more time when his heartbeat started picking up speed again. By the time they slotted into the cashier, his heart was on a race. When they made the walk back to their apartment, his heart felt like jumping out of his ribcage.

“Are you not going back to Bokuto’s?” It was a feat when his voice didn’t crack.

“Do you want me to?” Kuroo asked as he deposited their groceries onto the kitchen counter. His back was on Kenma.

“I don’t.”

“Then I won’t.” Kuroo started taking the contents out of the bag, still not looking at Kenma.

He grabbed that opportunity to steady his heartbeat and his hands. He breathed calmly. He pinned his gaze at the back of Kuroo’s head.

“Kuro?”

“Hmm?” The plastic bag crinkled.

Deep breaths.

“I love you, too.”

Kuroo turned around. His eyes found Kenma’s, and they offered nothing. But then they were narrowing a bit as a newly formed smile pushed his cheeks up. “Yeah?” He didn’t look surprised, which didn’t surprise Kenma.

“But you knew that already, didn’t you.” He was stepping towards him, joining him at the kitchen counter.

“I guess I did, huh? I mean, I was hoping I was right…”

“You are,” Kenma confirmed, tilting his head up to hold his gaze.

“I am.” The smile he gave Kenma was not the Kenma smile which he adored. It was a whole different thing. New and so unique to Kuroo, filled with even more joy and fondness. Not a hint of wistfulness which he now realized had been present in his previous smiles. Kenma craved to see more of it. Of this thing only he was privy to.

Reaching a hand, Kuroo brushed back a stray lock of blond hair, while Kenma brought his arm up to rest it on the counter. His hand dangled off the edge. Kuroo grasped it. Kenma squeezed.

“You knew and yet you still avoided me?” Kenma asked out of curiosity, his tone never accusatory.

“I thought you might need space to realize it at your own pace, and my presence wasn’t helping with that, so…” He laced their fingers together. “Was I right?”

Kenma hummed. “Yes and no.” He raised their joined hands and kissed the back of Kuroo’s. “You know how I am with changes. How long it always takes me to adjust to them. And I was afraid things would change drastically between us. And I would hate that a lot, because the one constant thing in my life has always been you. And then you put your distance, and that’s when the change came.”

In video games, characters unlocked skills. In life, Kenma unlocked knowledge. Kuroo’s absence helped him unlocked what had always been true.

Kuroo pulled him into his arms.

“It’s so silly.” Kenma chuckled lightly. “We’ve been like this for so long, I guess, that I no longer remember what it was like to… not be in love with you.” Kuroo’s arms around him tightened, and when he breathed in the scent of Kenma’s hair it squeezed him. “Does that make sense?”

“Perfectly.” Kuroo rocked them both, and then he’s steering their bodies into the living room while still in the tight embrace. He walked Kenma backwards and Kenma wrapped his arms around him. When they landed on the couch Kuroo was on his back and Kenma on top of him, his face buried in his chest.

He kissed the space between his chest through the brown sweater he was wearing, and Kuroo chuckled. “I love you, Kenma.”

Kenma bent his neck up to look into his eyes, digging his chin into his chest. “I love you always, Kuro.”

He’d loved him yesterday, and the day before that as well as a few weeks ago. The spring Kenma had graduated high school, and the fall Kuroo had celebrated his birthday away from him. Pick a random date in the calendar and it wouldn’t matter, because he’d been loving him for so long he didn’t think of it as anything new anymore.

Hands cupped either side of Kenma’s head. “Come here.” So Kenma crawled forwards to level his face with Kuroo’s. The head below pushed up and the one above dipped down. Their mouths joined in the middle. Lips soft and warm and damp. When their heads tilted they opened the kiss and Kenma sighed into it, allowing the tongue that pressed inside.

An arm snaked along Kenma’s back, while his fingers combed through black hair. He then parted his legs so he could move up into a sitting position on top of Kuroo. After a while their lips separated. Panting lightly, they stared into each other’s eyes. And broke into a fit of giggles.

•••  
  


It was pouring when Kenma’s class was let out a little past 6. He pulled his hoodie up and shoved his hands into the front pockets. As he was at the bottom steps of the entrance to their building he caught sight of the warm smile he so loved and cherished. It’s the Kuroo smile.

“I know you didn’t bring your umbrella,” he said when Kenma was beside him.

Kenma narrowed his eyes at the single umbrella in Kuroo’s hand. “Then why didn’t you bring it? You left after me.”

He shrugged, a slightly mischievous smile playing on his lips. “So we could share mine?”

Kenma rolled his eyes. Kuroo laughed.

“C’mon.”

Stepping into the rain, they huddled under the red umbrella that was fortunately big enough for the two of them. Kuroo’s free arm slid across Kenma’s shoulders and wrapped around the back of his neck as he pressed their bodies closer. Nothing new.

Kenma lifted his hand up to take hold of the hand that dangled from his shoulder. Threading their fingers together, he placed a kiss on the back of Kuroo’s hand once, twice, thrice. He left them like that, joined arms slung across his chest. Something new.

Kuroo placed a kiss of his own on top of Kenma’s head. Nothing new, but something rare when they’re both in public.

Lately it had been like that with the two of them. New and old things mingling together. Sometimes a discovery that what they originally thought was new, was in fact not at all.

Kenma could get used to it. Could be more welcoming to change, so long as he welcomed it with Kuroo.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. If you’re here at the very bottom of this fic, thank you for sticking and reading!
> 
> Last time I wrote something was in 2017, and I didn’t really write regularly in the past so I hope that wasn’t too terrible. Kuroken, too, are the first established characters I’ve ever written coz I only ever did OCs. I hope I portrayed them fine.
> 
> My beginning and ending notes are edited, so it’s not holiday season anymore. Still, I wish for a better year ahead for all of us here. Thank you again for reading!


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